Long Live the Queen
by Wallwalker
Summary: Elsa didn't know when she'd be used to the title. [Post-QfG5. Ignores the Authorized Strategy Guide, because I didn't know about it.]


She was Queen Elsa of Silmaria now, and she didn't know when she would be used to the title.

The coronation robes were light and airy and voluminous, and a good deal more comfortable than the ridiculous outfit that Minos had insisted she wear. She would've been happier if she'd turned on him sooner, she sometimes thought. He'd given her ample reason to do so, with his slow erosion of her dignity.

She wore the simple circlet of the past Kings of Silmaria, and carried their royal seal, a rod of hard wood topped with a disc of polished bronze. The markings on the disk were unknown to her; she'd make that one of her first priorities, to learn more about the land that she would rule. The people cheered for her; if anyone harbored grudges towards Minos, then they did not reflect on her, thank goodness. No one would treat her the way that Minos had treated her, not ever again.

The ceremony itself was over. The people were happy today, because they could finally see an end to the damage done to their nation. The peace with the Tritons was fragile at best, and the dragon's rampage had been a costly one. She was going to do her best to lead them past this, although she knew she had her work cut out for her. At least she had experience on her side; leading a group of hostile bandits who'd believed her nothing more than a week little girl hadn't been easy, either, but she'd made them into a force to be reckoned with. Ruling a country would be far more difficult, but she'd found she enjoyed such challenges.

Elsa was glad to take the time to greet her subjects, but she was happier to see a friendly face as Arctos approached her, his yellow curls bright in the sun. A sash of white linen bearing the seal of Shapeir was the only sign of his official title.

"Congratulations, Elsa," Arctos said, taking her hand. "Queenhood suits you."

She laughed at that. "I suppose it must," she answered. "Even my brother seems to agree. Erasmus sent me Barnard's message of congratulations yesterday morning."

"He didn't come himself? Why wouldn't he want to see you?"

"I thought he might, to be honest," she said, her smile fading somewhat. "If nothing else, I thought he might be glad to see that I was no longer a threat to his power in Speilburg. But I suppose I was wrong."

The thought of it ached, even though she'd put aside any hope of a reconciliation years ago. All of her childhood memories of Barnard had been happy ones: games of hide-and-seek in the castle towers, or cold winter evenings when he would let her sit with him while he read her his favorite stories. It broke her heart seeing his face when he looked at her, seeing his jealousy and fear, as if she'd do anything to harm her own brother! Yorick had told her that people assumed that others would treat them in the same way they would treat others, if they felt that they could. What had happened to Barnard since she'd disappeared? Was it more than the curse that had done this to him?

"I'm sorry, Elsa," she heard Arctos say. "If you ever want me to help, maybe I can help you talk to him."

She shook her head, bringing herself back to the present. He might well listen to Arctos, she thought. The hero _had_ saved him from imprisonment. "Thank you. I may take you up on your offer someday. I would not want this estrangement to last."

"Don't mention it. I want to help, if I can."

"You're a good man. You know that the people expected you to take the throne, don't you?"

"Um, yes, but... I couldn't," he said, his brown skin darkening still more as he looked away. "I mean... I could if I had to, but I don't think I could do the kinds of things a king has to do. And I've never been good at staying in one place for too long."

"I suppose not." She knew little of Paladins and their spiritual ways, only what bits and pieces Rakeesh had told her before he was drugged. But she had guessed he was a wanderer at heart from the stories she'd heard of Arctos after he'd left her home, and from the stories about the company that he currently kept. She couldn't claim to be surprised that he'd come alone, either.

It just served to remind her how little she actually knew - about this country, or about the rest of the world. She'd allowed Minos to use her in a conflict without taking the time to learn anything about it. That was another mistake she'd never make again.

"Are you all right?" Arctos asked, sounding worried.

"I'm fine." She turned to look at him. "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"I know that I might not be the one who loved Silmaria most," she said, thinking of the young man who'd first been found dead, his throat slashed next to a broken pillar. "And I might not be the worthiest of heroes, but... but I want to do my best for this land. I truly do."

Arctos cleared his throat, still blushing. "I know you do, Elsa," he said, lowering his voice and glancing around as if worried someone would overhear, "If I didn't, then then I would've claimed the throne. I mean, I might not be the best King, but if it was that or letting these people fall into the wrong hands... well, I wouldn't feel like I had a choice. But I didn't have to, and I'm glad. I'm glad it was you."

"Thank you," she said, genuinely touched by his faith in her, and reached out to put her hand on his shoulder.

"Don't mention it. It's the truth." He mirrored the gesture, the two of them briefly embracing before he pulled back. "I'm going to head back soon. I just wanted to let you know I'm happy for you."

"Thank you, Prince Arctos," she said, and backed up. "I hope that your path is no more dangerous than you can handle."

He bowed slightly. "Thank you," he said. "Good luck to you too, Queen Elsa. May the Powers within and without guide you well."

She grinned at him one last time before turning away. She certainly hoped they would.


End file.
